


A Totally Not-Boring Day

by lalazee



Series: Kelvin!Verse [3]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Comedy, Family, Fluff, Gen, Kid Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-11
Updated: 2013-09-11
Packaged: 2017-12-26 07:25:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/963204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lalazee/pseuds/lalazee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kelvin is <i>bored</i>. Jim , Spock – help!</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Totally Not-Boring Day

“ _Aaauuugggh_...”  
  
“Bored?” Jim asked with a grin, from his spot on the couch. He was stretched out in a t-shirt and a pair of surfer-shorts that sported very obnoxious parrots. With a dog-eared copy of  _Don Quixote_  in his hands and his feet resting on Spock’s lap, he couldn’t be more content.  
  
Other Kirks couldn’t make the same claim.  
  
Kelvin was upside down on the recliner; the top of his head brushed the floor, and his bony legs stuck in the air. His pale hair had been buzz cut for the summer –  _like a dog_ , Bones had commented with an eye-roll – and the Iowa sun hadn’t tanned the kid one bit. No – his face and arms were a galaxy of freckles.   
  
His son sighed loudly. “ _So_  bored. Iowa is boring.  _Boring_. How did you survive here?”  
  
“How did you get so dramatic?” Jim felt Spock shift, and he knew he was getting The Eyebrow.  
  
Kelly grinned. “I’m gonna swing on the refrigerator door.”  
  
“Can’t.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“You broke the handle off last night.”  
  
“Well.” Kelvin frowned. “Fix it.”  
  
Jim made a face.   
  
Kelly made the identical expression in return. “You’re useless.”  
  
“Uh, I happen to be the admiral of Starfleet’s flagship. I can do lots of things.” Jim shook his head at Spock, who was watching with an amused lift of eyebrows. “No pleasing some people, y'know?”  
  
“I wanna  _do_  something,” Kelvin announced with a plaintive tone to his voice. Jim recognised the warning sounds of a distant tantrum, and apparently so did Spock.  
  
“Annie and Amanda are in the backyard. Perhaps you would be amenable to joining them.”  
  
Last time Jim had checked on his girls, they were playing in their personal vegetable garden. Annie was drowning the tomato plants with her watering can, and Amanda was photographing bugs and worms with an old Polaroid camera they’d dug up from the attic.  
  
Syvek was out with Jim’s mom, and Talia was with Gaila in San Francisco.  
  
Kelvin’s face was turning red from his downturned position. “Gardening? Gross. I don’t like mud.”  
  
“Sulu will be crushed.”  
  
“Nah – he loves me.”  
  
Jim checked his page and shut his book. “So what  _do_  you want to do, Kelly? Give us a clue.”  
  
“I dunno,” he replied, unhelpfully. “I’m hungry.”  
  
“You’re always hungry.”  
  
Spock squeezed Jim’s foot. “A familial trait.”  
  
Jim smiled ruefully at his bondmate. “Okay, I'll admit I’m hungry, too. Hey!” He perked up. “I’ve got an idea. Why don’t we surprise everyone by baking something?”  
  
“Baking?” Kelvin rolled the word around in his mouth like he’d never heard it before.  
  
“Well, okay,  _I’m_  not very good at baking – too many instructions – but I know someone who  _loves_  following the rules.” Jim aimed a teasing grin at Spock, who looked as if he was about to roll his eyes.  
  
Kelvin’s face was turning purple. His dark eyes were wide. “Dad, do you  _really_ bake?”  
  
“I have baked on occasion. It is the simplest form of science.” He quirked a brow at Jim. “That is why I was surprised to find that your father failed so decisively at it.”  
  
“Measuring cups are for losers.”  
  
“I will notify Uhura you said that on the next occasion she wishes to make cupcakes for the bridge crew.”  
  
Jim choked on air. “Oh god, please don’t.”  
  
“So what are we baking?” Kelvin interrupted.  
  
“ _Uh_...”  
  
They both stared expectantly at Spock. With a muted sigh, Spock set aside his PADD. “I believe we have overly ripe bananas in the kitchen. We may make banana bread.”  
  
“ _Banana bread_!” Kelly screeched and fell on his head. He rolled and stood and dashed into the kitchen.  
  
“Kid gets excited about everything.”  
  
“Are you surprised?”  
  
Jim met Spock’s warm gaze. “No, not really.” Jim shifted and took his feet off Spock’s lap, giving him a firm pat on the thigh. “Come on, hotstuff – let’s play parents.”  
  
Kelvin was in the kitchen, kneeling on the counter and making faces at his sisters out the back window.  
  
Jim let him do his thing as he and Spock gathered the ingredients and tools for their adventure in baking.  
  
“Annie is getting naked again.”  
  
Spock’s brows shot up, and Jim approached and peered out the window over Kelly’s shoulder.  
  
Sure enough, the eight year-old was down to her underwear and almost literally rolling in mud. She was more mud creature than daughter at this point. Amanda blinked silently at her and snapped a picture.   
  
“Oh. Well.” Jim looked at Spock, who gave a tiny shrug. So did Jim. “Whatever makes her happy, I guess. We’ll hose her down later.”  
  
“Jim, we are prepared to begin.”  
  
“Great.” Jim clapped his hands together and surveyed the neat line-up of the necessities. “Kelly, commere. Peel these bananas and put them in the bowl, then mash ‘em up with this fork.”  
  
“Can’t I just mush them with my hands?”  
  
“Hell no. Fork.”  
  
“ _Fiiine_.”  
  
“Spock, you do that dry mixing stuff, because I always end up getting flour everywhere.”  
  
“I had assumed that would be my duty.”  
  
Jim winked. “Mind reader.”  
  
“Indeed.”  
  
“I’ll whip up the sugar and butter and eggs and stuff.”  
  
They each worked on their respective tasks – as Kelvin made dying, squelching noises in commemoration of his lost banana comrades. Jim and Spock worked shoulder to shoulder, their arms brushing companionably.  
  
Even after eleven years together, it still tickled Jim to see Spock in Terran-style civvies.  
  
“Done done  _done_  – what now?” Kelvin yanked at the hem of Jim’s shirt and bounced in place.  
  
Spock brushed his hands off on his slacks. “We must integrate the wet and dry components.” He emptied the bowl of banana into the whipped wet ingredients, and stuck a wooden spoon in the concoction.  
  
“Stir until incorporated.”  
  
Kelvin repeated in a dead monotone of his father. “Stir until incorporated.”  
  
Jim tried and failed to stifle a snort of laughter. Spock aimed a long-suffering look at the two grinning Kirks, and Jim couldn’t help but plant a smacking kiss on his lips.  
  
“Oh.” Jim reached up with his thumb. “You have flour on your chee –”  
  
Kelly’s spoon got caught in the thick conglomerate of banana goo, flipped out, and rocketed into the open bag of flour. A mushroom cloud of white engulfed the two men without warning.  
  
When it cleared, Jim found himself staring at a very, uh, floury Vulcan.  
  
“Just... a little...” Jim concluded, choking on a laugh. “On your cheek there.”   
  
Spock blinked, and flour fluttered off his eyelashes like snow. They both turned to look at Kelvin – only to discover he had fled the scene of the crime to linger in the doorway. He didn’t have a  _speck_  on him.  
  
His eyes were wide, his gap-toothed grin totally unapologetic.   
  
“ _Oh_ ,” Jim murmured menacingly. He took his place beside Spock – who was silently staring down his son while slowly wiping flour off his pale face. Jim clucked his tongue and shook his head. “I’m not sure this is fair. What do you think, Spock?”  
  
“I am inclined to agree, Jim. One must, after all, face the repercussions of their actions.”  
  
“No!” Kelvin squeaked, even though a smile threatened to overtake his face.  
  
“Oh yes,” Jim insisted. “Spock, would you care to do the honours?”  
  
“If you are not averse to the idea.”  
  
“ _Nooo_!” Their son managed around a fit of giggles. His toes were wiggling in anticipation of the futile chase.  
  
Then Spock was snatching the bag of flour and dashing across the room with Vulcan speed, and Kelvin was scrambling and screaming as he ran for the front door in his own alien agility. Jim followed at his own pace with easy laughter.  
  
Before he rounded the corner, there was a sound of a scuffle and a gasp and a yelp. When Jim entered the hallway, it became very clear that things had gotten  _very_  messy,  _very_ quickly.  
  
Not only were his son and bondmate buried beneath clinging flour, but so were his  _mom_ and Syvek. They apparently had the misfortune of opening the door in the precise moment Spock had exacted his revenge.  
  
Mom’s face was scrunched, as she swiped at her forehead and coughed up errant baking particles. Syvek stared, slack-jawed and aghast at Spock.  
  
Jim raised a brow and leaned against the wall. He was used to getting into trouble all the time – even as a thirty-something year old – but  _Spock_? Oh no. That golden boy never got an earful. Jim was rather excited about the whole concept.  
  
Spock was frozen in place, the quarter-full bag of flour clenched in his fist. And when Mom aimed her patented ‘ _you will be grounded in ten seconds flat if you don’t explain the meaning of this_ ’ look at Spock, he had the  _nerve_  to quietly utter, “I was following Jim’s orders.”  
  
“ _What_?” Jim yelped, inwardly cringing beneath the glare his mother shot him with. “When do you  _ever_  follow my orders?”  
  
Kelvin leaped at his grandmother in a flurry of flour. “We were making banana bread!”  
  
Mom looked at Jim, who was narrowly eyeing Spock, who was pretending not to notice as he ineptly dusted some powder off his shoulder.   
  
“Is that was this is?”  
  
“Yeah!”  
  
“A _ha_.” Mom pursed her lips and flicked a glance toward Spock. “If that’s all, then...”  
  
She nabbed the bag of flour from Spock and promptly dumped the contents on her youngest grandson’s head. “I want to join!”  
  
Eventually, Annie brought the mud in, Amanda brought the worms, Syvek and Kelvin broke a coffee table, and Spock had to clean up the flour.  
  
It was a totally not-boring day.


End file.
